What Not to do at Music Camp
by Bree Rose Namet
Summary: A/U Puck and Rachel meet at a music camp. Rachel falls in love and Puck screws up - bad. One-shot. Rated T for language.


**A/N: Just a short little A/U one-shot that burrowed into my head and wouldn't go away. I know, it's Cheesy with a capital "C". Oh, well. Most of my stuff is. *shrugs*  
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**Disclaimer: I currently have 10 bucks in my wallet. Think I own Glee? Your head's fulla rocks, mate. (My Aussie bff Matt says that all the time :).)**

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><p><strong>Rachel's POV<strong>

When I first saw him, it was the summer between grade 11 and 12. I was seventeen. He was in his third year of university. We were at a music camp outside Philadelphia.

The Sunday I got there, I saw him from a distance, across the field. I could tell that he was gorgeous even from there.

It was a full day before I worked up the nerve to talk to him. Noah Puckerman. He preferred Puck, but he was still Noah to me. He played the guitar, and just hearing him play... it was beautiful. I watched him at meals and during classes. He could sing, too. I was there for the singing. Since I was a baby, I'd been singing, dancing, acting—you name it. I won my first dance competition when I was two months old.

"Hi, I'm Rachel," I said nervously at lunch. Where were my words when I needed them.

"Puck," he smirked. "Nice voice you got there."

"Thanks," I smiled. He winked and walked off with his lunch.

And then everything came crashing down. I watched him sit down at a full table next to a girl I recognized from choir. She was tall, but not too tall, slender without being skinny, perfect figure, long, silky blonde hair... she was gorgeous. Obviously, he would want her. She never said much in choir, but there, next to Noah, she was talking and laughing and just looking beautiful.

I hated her on sight, even more so as I watched him kiss her.

"Who is that?" I asked Noah's sister, Rebecca. She was the same age as me, so we hung out, but we didn't talk much. She was pretty quiet.

"Quinn," she mumbled. "She's dating Noah."

They were always together. They hung out at meals, during free time, and they had almost all the same classes—except for right before lunch. He took guitar and she took piano. With me.

They touched all the time, just holding hands or fooling with each others hair, little touches that stung me for no reason.

I watched Noah for the whole week, and he remained completely oblivious.

Thursday evening, I was coming out of the shower house in nothing but a towel, my underwear, and my flip flops, because my cabin was right next door. My clothes had gotten wet in the rain and I didn't want to put them back on.

"Rachel? Uh... It's Rachel, isn't it?" I looked up to see Noah right in front of me. It was depressing that I knew almost everything about him, from the fact that he was Jewish to how much he loved birds, and even that he didn't know how to tie his shoes. I hadn't been stalking him, but I couldn't help watching him every time we were in the same room.

I knew so much about him and he barely knew my name.

"Yeah," I shrugged sadly.

"Are you okay?"

"I don't know," I said, surprising both of us. "Why?"

"We're performing tomorrow, you know." He shrugged. "If you can't sing..."

"What gave you the impression that I can't sing?" I demanded indignantly. "I am perfectly capable of performing in my current state. And why do you think there's something the matter with me? I don't really feel that you have any right to make assumptions on my well-being, seeing as you never acknowledge me anyway. As a matter of fact—"

"Do you always do that?" he interrupted, looking amused. "Use ten words when you could use five?"

I just glared at him.

"You looked depressed just now," he said quietly, answering my question. "I know we don't really know each other, but if you wanna talk—"

"We don't know each other?" I challenged. "I know that you used to play the guitar the wrong way around and that you love ping-pong. I know that you love swimming, but you never have enough time for it because you're always practising. I know that you really want to play the guitar when you grow up, and you've been playing since you were five. I know more about you than you know about yourself."

Noah was looking at me like he didn't know what to think, but I pressed on.

"I know that you only tuck half your shirt in, and your shoelaces always come untied and you don't know how to tie them. I know that you always act mean to your sister, but you love her more than anything. I know that you love walking around in the dark so much that sometimes, you sleepwalk, and you always go to this old tree down by the lake. And I know that when you play..." I paused and looked down, suddenly embarrassed.

"What?" he murmured.

"I feel like you're the only person in the world, and I could listen forever. Nothing else matters," I whispered. Somehow, sometime during a week of watching this boy, I'd grown to like him. A lot.

Noah just stood there, seeming shocked. "How do you..." He cleared his throat. "How do you know so much? I just met you a week ago!"

"And have you noticed me at all during that week?" I asked quietly, clutching the towel tighter around me. "Have you noticed me watching you every time you come in the room? Have you seen the way I flinch every time you touch Quinn? Have you realized that I come to every performance of yours, and none of the others?"

"No," he said softly, giving me a wry smile.

"Seeing you smile..." I whispered. "How long have you been with Quinn?"

"Six years."

"You love her." It wasn't a question and we both knew it.

"Rachel—"

"I promised myself I wouldn't be all melodramatic if this ever happened, but," I said, taking a deep breath, "Quinn's a lucky girl, Noah—Puck. I'm sorry that some underage schoolgirl had to come and screw up what I'm sure was a great week for you."

"Rachel, I'm sorry—"

"No, Puck. You don't need to apologize. I accept full responsibility in this situation. It was not your fault. I really should have been more careful." I took a shaky breath. "I always mess things up anyway."

I turned and ran into my cabin, slamming the door behind me and falling face-first onto my bed, sobbing.

I felt the bed shift and someone started rubbing my back. "What's going on?" Rebecca asked quietly.

"I messed it up! I always do, and now he won't ever talk to me again!" I cried.

"I'm sorry about my idiot brother. He doesn't know a good thing when he sees it," she said. "He has no idea what he's missing."

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><p><strong>Puck's POV<strong>

_God dammit, Puckerman! The hell is wrong with you?_ I thought angrily, pacing back and forth in my cabin. _You let her get away, you motherfuckin' idiot!_

This music camp wasn't my idea. Quinn was going and she didn't want to go alone. She threatened to cut me off for a week if I didn't go, and that shit ain't kosher. A guy has needs, OK?

I was expecting it to be the worst thing ever, but when I got there, the teachers were actually cool and they knew what they were doing.

Then, the second day, I met her. Rachel Fuckin' Berry. She was the hottest chick I ever saw—and I've seen a lotta hot chicks, let me tell you.

And damn, could she sing. I mean, seriously, she was pretty short, OK? And a set of lungs like _that_—well, let's just say, it wasn't expected.

And she was Jewish, I could tell by the nose. My ma was always telling me to get some Jewish girl and make perfect little Jewish babies. (Her and Quinn didn't really get on that well.)

I gotta admit, I watched her _all the time_. She never caught me at it. I felt a little bad, cause she was seventeen and I was twenty-one, but she was _hot_, OK? I couldn't help it.

Then, on the Thursday, I was walking over to my cabin and I passed the showers. Who should I run into but Rachel Berry.

Wearing nothing but a towel and her underwear, if the straps peeking out from the towel were anything to go by.

_Damn_, she was hot.

And then she started spewing all this stuff about me that even _I_ barely knew. Apparently, she'd been watching me all week or something.

And then she said she messed it up. Apparently, she had a crush on me or something, and she apologized for messing up my week. Then she said, and I quote, "I always mess things up anyway."

_Seriously_. She did not mess things up! She was so hot, and I was so happy to have met her and shit! But of course, when she said that, I just stood there like an idiot and watched her run away.

That was the last time I saw her, apart from across the dining hall or during meetings. She avoided me like I had the plague or something.

After that, I went home with Quinn. I hung out with friends, I went to school, I pretended that everything was normal.

I was reminded of that week _every fuckin' day_ by none other than my sister. Apparently, Rachel had run into their cabin crying after that night, and now Rebecca hated my guts.

I knew I'd made the biggest mistake of my life.


End file.
